


Aussicht | The Dream Owl |

by Silverstar309



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 04:27:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18175838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverstar309/pseuds/Silverstar309
Summary: 'Just a blur of brown feathers –a fragment of a vision, one he had seen before; but while that had been vain hope in the past now tightened around his neck like talons. Sometime in the future he would receive an owl, and judging from the alpine background, that message would find him in Nurmengard.'Sometimes hope is a brown bird on a prison window sill.Posted as a gift to DarthKrande and NeverBeyondRedemption





	Aussicht | The Dream Owl |

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarthKrande](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthKrande/gifts), [NeverBeyondRedemption](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverBeyondRedemption/gifts).



> Okay, so not my usual content, but I had to post this somewhere since Tumblr was being an ass. And the painting....well, I got inspired. I was down and found a fic by a few certain someones with fantastic writing that made me laugh and smile and want to throttle Snape against the wall and scream a few choice words at Dumbledore. This is for you two brilliant writers. 
> 
> You made me hope.

Aussicht. A German word that means prospect, view, and sometimes promise. This painting was made with that meaning in mind.

We all have our demons. Prisons that keep us caged, one way or another, sometimes literally. In our heads. In the real world. Sometimes they're made of stone, impenetrable, bleak, and hopeless. Sometimes they are gilded, golden, and hopeful. Sometimes we walk into them willingly. Sometimes we deserved them. Sometimes, we were trapped into closing ourselves in. 

Skies of gray seldom go away. When we're downed, that is their color. A window to clouded future, unpredictable, that we can't see. A curtain over our heads to starry night skies we can't reach. A cold sky that rains and makes us cold inside.

But we hope. That is human nature. To hope, to look up, to _reach._ Hope is blind, blind because you don't quite know what it is you're hoping for, but if you do, you don't know when it comes. But we hope. And we hope. And we hope. For a window to brighter skies. For freedom from the cages of our own making. Of fluffy brown birds to lead us far, far away, to some unknown fate.

That is what this painting tries to convey. The walls are as dark as the prison they imbody. The sky is gray with fate unknown. The owl is hope. Blind, curious hope, that wonders about our heads, waiting for the right moment to say something.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Added link in case the picture doesn't load: https://photos.google.com/u/1/photo/AF1QipNMODy6flAMzuC_anP_Ud_fNyedWjLaE-JRp0UY


End file.
